


Opposite Day

by thisjustout



Series: Opposite Day [1]
Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Miscommunication, Pining, Post-Episode: s01e19 Young Blood Old Souls, content warnings in author's notes, hurt/comfort elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisjustout/pseuds/thisjustout
Summary: A lovesick Amity solicits a potion from Eda, hoping to magically suppress her feelings for Luz. Something goes wrong.
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Series: Opposite Day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085450
Comments: 80
Kudos: 466





	1. Dénouement

**Author's Note:**

> **Content warning:** This fic deals with bullying as a somewhat major theme, contains—but does not explicitly address—a strong undercurrent of abusive parenting, and makes occasional reference to adolescent sexuality. Other, chapter-specific warnings appear in the opening notes of some chapters.
> 
> Thank you to [argentconflagration](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentconflagration/) for beta reading!

_Hecate’s dress is white like the moon, and her skin is white like paper, but the flowers cradled in her arms are a white that Azura has never seen—like the off-white of merrow custard, but bright as the sun. It’s easier to look at Hecate’s red hair, which falls in locks upon the bouquet, than to look at the flowers directly._

_“For me?” Azura says._

_Hecate stands motionless, her smile frozen, while the idyllic forest spins around them._

_“Your other face,” Azura says suddenly. Only the one, smiling end of Hecate’s head is visible from this angle. Azura tries to walk around, to get a better look, but the greenery is swimming. “Let me see. Let me see!”_

_Hecate leaps into Azura’s arms; a few of the flowers drift to the floor._

_“I guess it’s a human thing,” she says. “One person wears a white dress, and the other one wears a suit—or I guess they both wear dresses, or suits—and there’s a party with cake and stuff, and the two of them promise to always love each other, and then it’s usually happy ever after!”_

_Azura’s heart does that little fluttery thing that it always does around Hecate. Especially when she talks about human things, or about the Good Witch Azura series, or about how her day is going, or really just about anything._

_Luz sits across from her, smiling. The table is littered with white petals and lit by three tall candles. It’s different, somehow, this smile. Their hands are clasped in the center of the table. Because they’re dating. Yes, dating! Of course they are! Girlfriends! Luz is hers, and she is Luz’s. A candle winks out, and something like that flutter-heart feeling—but steadier, warmer—washes slowly over Amity. She basks in the feeling, in the doting smile of her love._

_Love! They’re in love! She leans across the table and kisses Luz. Because she can, she can, she can! Their faces melt into one another—fuck, there’s that feeling again; she didn’t know it could happen twice. The warmth drips down her neck and into her fingertips. She wraps herself around Luz, nuzzles her face into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck. The candles are out. The table is gone. It’s just the two of them, now and always._

❀

Amity Blight opened her eyes to a deep, familiar darkness. Instinctively, she rolled over and reached for the sleeping form of her girlfriend. Her hands met empty air, dangling off the edge of her bed, and she recalled the truth.

Luz was not, in fact, Amity’s girlfriend. She was a friend. A good friend, an _amazing_ friend, but just a friend. And she would never be anything else, for Amity would never confess her feelings. (What if Luz didn’t reciprocate? What if the awkwardness of a one-sided crush got in the way of their friendship? Best never to risk it.)

But that dream—the knowledge, the _conviction_ that she and Luz had been together—it felt real, even now. Wonderfully, heart-stoppingly real. Accepting the truth left a hollow ache in Amity’s chest; she swallowed her tears and closed her eyes, but she did not fall back asleep.

❀

Could she use magic, somehow, to suppress her feelings for Luz? Only temporarily, of course. She _liked_ being head over heels for this one adorable, brave, stubborn human. But the idea of turning off her infatuation when it got too painful or distracting? That could be nice. She had no clue how she’d accomplish it, though.

Dawn finally illuminated her bedroom: bookcase, dresser, vacant wall space where an Emperor’s Coven recruitment poster had once hung, corked glass bottle of sky-blue liquid—a potion of fabric softening. At once, the solution clicked into place.

Amity washed and dressed quickly, invigorated despite her lack of sleep. After a quick breakfast of fried bacon stems, she searched the manor for her siblings, eventually finding them in the basement. The normally empty room hosted an array of illusory household objects: carved wooden furniture, crystal balls, candle holders, bloodbound rugs, bejeweled chandeleirs, ovens both mundane and magical, and a few shrines to the Titan.

 _They must be practicing for a test,_ Amity realized with a strange mix of satisfaction and annoyance.

“Good morning, Mittens,” Emira called sweetly from the back of the room.

Ignoring the nickname, Amity turned to Edric, who sat at the bottom of the steps. “Can I borrow your potions textbook?”

“Aw, she thinks she can catch up with us,” Ed teased. “Isn’t that cute?”

“Our little overachiever,” Em cooed.

Amity said flatly, “Can I have the book or not?”

The twins exchanged a glance.

“I think it’s in the parlor,” Ed said.

Upon retrieving the textbook, Amity holed up in her room for the rest of the morning. She read and reread chapter seven, “Modifying Potions with Spellcraft,” until the basic principles were seared into her eye sockets. Just as she was about to practice on her fabric softener, the crystal ball on her dresser lit up.

“Amity?” came the sound of Luz’s voice. “Amityyyy, are you there?”

Her heart skipped a beat. She silenced the crystal with a quick wave of her hand, then summoned her scroll and messaged Luz.

**_Don't ever use my crystal ball to contact me again._ **

**_How did you even get that number?_ **

**_oh, um, sorry_ **

**_willow gave it to me_ **

**_im still getting used to this scroll, i thought crystal would be easier_ **

**_sorry_ **

Panic quieted into looming dread—and guilt.

**_It's ok. Sorry for freaking out. Just please don’t do it again._ **

**_So, what's up?_ **

Titan’s breath, what an awful transition. _So, what’s up_? Amity fought the urge to blow up her scroll so she could never again send Luz such an embarrassing message.

**_wanna go fishing for crabs??_ **

**_oath crabs that is_ **

**_i have NO idea what an oath crab is but king made it sound really cool_ **

**_Yes, I'd love to!_ **

**_yay!_ **

**_meet us at the owl house in like an hour?_ **

**_Sounds good!_ **

**_Who else is coming?_ **

**_king and gus and willow_ **

**_Okay! See you in an hour._ **

**_see you!!_ **

Amity burned halfway through one of her training wands trying to get the reversal spell right before she realized the opportunity Luz had just presented her.

**_Actually, I don’t think I can come, sorry._ **

**_I have some homework that might take a while._ **

**_oh, ok_ **

**_that sucks im sorry_ **

**_we're still on for azura book club right?_ **

**_Yes!_ **

❀

Some two hours later, Amity stood at Luz’s front door, her hand poised to knock—but something made her hesitate. She could turn back now. No one would be the wiser; Hooty was asleep at his—

The door slammed open. “Eeeeeeeda! You have a visitor, hoot hoot!”

A loud crash sounded from somewhere inside the cottage while Amity sent a silent prayer to the Titan that He legalize avicide. Luz’s guardian approached the doorway moments later, rubbing her sleep-glazed eyes.

“Who in their right—”

Amity cleared her throat. “Hi, Miss Owl Lady.”

“Oh. You.” Edalyn peered at her. “You’re Luz’s friend, right?”

“Yes,” Amity said slowly. “We’ve met before. A few times, actually. I’m Amity. Amity Blight?”

Eda blinked. Incredibly, she looked as if she’d just woken up. Her eyes sported bags, her hair was exceptionally unkempt, and her outfit—well, Amity tended to throw out clothes before they became _half_ as tattered and stained as the robe Eda now wore. Not to mention the slippers.

“Luz isn’t home,” Eda said, waving her hand dismissively. “Ran off with King to do…something stupid, probably. I’d say you’re welcome to wait until she gets back, but I’m in the middle of my beauty sleep. Good morning.” And she shut the door.

Maybe Amity should have listened to the sense of relief that washed over her—the loosening of that tightness in her gut. Instead she caught the door with her shoulder, holding it open by an inch. (“ _Ow,_ rude!” said the bird.)

“I’m not here to see Luz. I want to buy a potion—Luz told me that you sell them? Also, it’s one in the afternoon.”

The door immediately flew open (“Okay, again, _OW!_ ”), causing Amity to trip and stumble forward into the house.

“Oh, you’re a _customer!_ Why didn’t you say so? Come in, come in.” Eda looked a different person entirely: straight-backed, wide-eyed, and smiling. Amity could almost see the snail signs lighting up in her eyes. “Have a seat, and hold tight for a second.” She ducked into another room, leaving Amity alone.

Just _being_ in Luz’s house sent a chill down Amity’s spine. She recalled (unwillingly) the handful of times she’d visited: sitting on that armchair, pretending to read, covertly watching Luz scrawl glyphs into her notebook from across the room; or on this very couch, inches away from Luz, trying not to melt at the physical proximity. Then her thoughts turned ( _quite_ unwillingly) to daydreams: finding Luz alone in the Owl House—better yet, Luz _inviting_ her over—hugging, kissing—getting horizontal—

Amity tried very hard not to blush.

Eda returned with a large wooden tray full of clinking glass containers. No two vials were identical: they ranged from triangular beakers to winding tubes, from small as a thumb to thicker than an arm; the potions within varied wildly in color, opacity, and effervescence, as surely as if they’d been plucked from a painbow; and the occasional odd ingredient floated in the mix—a fingernail here, a fishtooth there, a flower petal in every fifth glass. The assortment rather belonged on the cover of a potions textbook, or in recruiting materials for the Potions Coven.

After laying her wares on the room’s low central table, Eda took a seat on the couch next to Amity. “Now, what can I do you for? We’ve got shoe shine, invisibility polish, all-purpose unseasoning, elixir of knowledge retention—that one’s great if you’ve got an exam coming up—ratfold venom, elixir of knowledge _un_ retention, concoction of underwater whistling—you’re probably a little young for that, huh—polymorphic brew, snake oil—”

“I want a love potion,” Amity blurted before Eda could list her whole inventory.

The businesswoman’s smile evaporated at once. Amity bit the inside of her lip and returned Eda’s silent, steady gaze.

“That’s above my pay grade,” Eda finally said. “Not to mention illegal.”

Amity’s heart sped up, just a little bit. “It’s important. I don’t know where else to find one. And I thought you didn’t care about the law—no offense.” _Please don’t get me in trouble,_ she thought.

“I don’t.” Eda pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, _most_ of what Belos has outlawed is completely harmless. Being covenless, selling wares without a license, resisting arrest, manslaughter”—she counted off the proscriptions on her fingers. “But some illegal things really are bad. Like first-degree murder, or love potions.”

Amity opened her mouth to respond, but Eda wasn’t finished.

“Trust me. Whatever boy problems you’re having, adding a love potion into the mix will only lead to heartbreak and regret. _And_ a trip to the conformatorium.” Eda spoke with an air of finality that Amity knew all too well—the tone adults invoked to say, _This conversation is over._

She tried to explain that it wasn’t like that. She wanted to get _rid_ of the heartache, not add more. But her voice faltered: “I’m not…she’s…”

Eda raised an eyebrow. “Fine, girl problems. Sorry for assuming.”

 _So that’s it,_ thought Amity. _I’ll be miserable forever. In love with a girl I can barely talk to._

No, no. Surely she could find another black-market vendor…somehow. The thought of getting tangled up in the criminal underworld terrified her. But she could do it—for the sake of her friendship with Luz, and for her own sanity. She _would_ get her hands on a love potion.

Lost in her thoughts, it took Amity a second to notice Eda. The woman had leaned in toward Amity—like, _way_ too close—and was now fixing her with a strange, discerning stare. Her mismatched irises, yellow and gray, drew Amity’s attention: two fixed points on a blanched face.

Amity had no idea what was happening. She felt like she’d met four different women today: half-asleep Eda, Eda the potion merchant, Eda the stern adult, and now…well, whatever _this_ was. (The words _wanted criminal_ flashed through her mind, but she dismissed them.) With no script to follow, Amity simply froze.

“Listen, kid,” Eda finally said. The smell of apple blood was thick on her breath, and Amity had to swallow to avoid gagging. “A love potion is powerful stuff.” Without breaking eye contact, Eda reached with one hand into her nest of tangled silver hair. “You want my advice, just use a drop.” She pulled a tiny, corked vial from her mane and held it between their faces; clear liquid sloshed around inside, refracting Eda’s yellow eye and knocking her face out of proportion. “One drop. It won’t make her fall in love with you. But if she already likes you, those feelings will be inflamed. She’ll confess if you ask her. Get it?”

“Mhm,” Amity said automatically, and nodded, although she did not get it.

Eda’s frown deepened. “Promise me that you won’t feed more than a drop of this”—she waggled the vial for emphasis—“to Luz.”

Oh. _Oh._ Amity swallowed loudly. “I promise. Witch’s honor.” She extended a hand—or rather she proffered it awkwardly with her elbow bent, Eda being _very_ much in her personal space right now.

Eda held Amity’s gaze for another quiet moment—then nodded, leaned back, and pressed the vial into Amity’s open palm. “All yours, kid.”

Amity closed her fingers around the potion. It weighed little, but felt heavy in her grip. “You don’t want to—?”

“Give you a flask with only a single drop?” interrupted Eda. “No. It would lose potency within minutes.”

“That’s not—I know _that._ I passed Elementary Potions.”

The comment garnered an eye roll, but Amity didn’t care. The Owl Lady’s weird, unspoken test was over, and she had her prize.

“I just thought you might want to make an Everlasting Oath,” Amity continued.

“Nah. I’m not really a fan of those things.” Eda’s whole demeanor had changed; she reclined lazily, one arm slung over the couch.

Amity tucked the potion into her shirt pocket and stood up, suddenly eager to get away from this house.

Eda cleared her throat. “I take cash.”

“Right, right.” Amity blushed as she reached for her purse, embarrassed that she’d almost forgotten this part. “How much?”

“Four hundred fifty.”

“ _Snails?_ ” Amity practically spat.

“Yes, I do believe that’s the standard currency—hey, don’t look at me like that! This stuff is expensive to brew. ”

Amity frantically counted out her remaining bills. “I only have three hundred…three hundred and twenty left.”

Eda’s lips curled into a frown. “Aren’t your parents made of money?” 

“I have an _allowance_.” She worked to keep the desperation out of her voice.

Eda looked at Amity, then at the wad of bills clutched tight between her fingers, then back at Amity. She let out a loud, defeated sigh.

“All right, a discount. Three hundred twenty snails. But _only_ because you’re Luz’s friend.”

Amity handed over her remaining cash for the month, then fled the Owl House in the direction of Blight Manor, heart racing, the potion snug against her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potion seller, I’m going into battle, and I need only your most unethical potions.


	2. The Good Witch Azura Appreciation Society

Luz idled near the romance section of the Bonesborough Library, her eyes scanning the shelves as she tried to guess, by title alone, which novels must be the steamiest. It was a game she’d played often enough in Earth’s libraries and bookstores, but that good old Boiling Isles weirdness made it even more fun. Take, for example, _The Bloodmonger’s Last Wand_. Luz had absolutely no idea what a “bloodmonger” was; to her knowledge, the only three types of mongers were fear, war, and fish. Devising an appropriately weird-but-plausible definition for the word, _and then_ trying to figure out what could possibly be enticing about his/her/their last wand, _and then_ trying to compare that with all the other equally absurd titles, was one hell of a mental workout.

She’d almost finished weighing _Hidden Pockets_ against _The Man with a Thousand Fingers_ when, finally, she saw an opening—no one to her left or right, or in the aisle behind—and tugged excitedly at _The Lone Witch & Secret Room_. The bookcase shifted aside. Amity was already present, bent over her desk with pencil in hand; at the grinding sound of the bookcase, she looked up.

“Hey, Amity!” Luz greeted with a smile.

“Hi, Luz! How's it going? Make sure to close that behind you. Wait, no, I'll get it.” Amity spoke too fast for Luz to react, then leapt from her chair and made for the entrance.

Luz stepped aside to let Amity pass, then wandered over to the desk at the back of the room. By the light of a single flickering candle, she saw a pencil illustration of a woman with two faces—one overjoyed, one melancholy—cradling a bouquet of tiny, five-petaled flowers in her arms.

Luz gasped. “Is that Hecate from the end of book five? The white blossom scene? It’s really good!”

“No!” Amity darted back to the desk and flipped the paper over. “I mean yes—all the stuff you said got me thinking—but it’s not finished yet! Aha.”

Luz nodded. She could understand not wanting to show off a work in progress until it was complete. Not that she’d ever had friends who cared about her fandoms—but she’d always felt weird writing or drawing where her mom might see her.

At the thought of her mother, a too-familiar wave of homesickness seized Luz. She and Eda had spent weeks trying to find a way back to the human world, but so far, they’d come up dry.

“So, how were the oath crabs?” Amity asked, interrupting Luz’s thoughts.

Luz grinned, happy for the distraction. “We had a lot of fun! I mean, the crabs are _total_ jerks. They were all like”—she put her hands up against her face, mimicking their skittery little crab legs with her fingers—“ _Only the worthy may bond our kind! You have not the heart to awaken the ancient words!_ Whatever that means.”

Amity chuckled. Luz felt herself swelling with pride, as she always did when she got Amity to laugh.

“But it was still fun!” she went on. “I managed to grab one, and it felt like—I don’t know, like there was a thunderstorm inside me or something. I wish you could’ve been there.”

That last comment seemed to catch Amity off-guard; her smile disappeared, and her eyes darted to the floor.

“Sorry,” Luz said quickly. “I know you had a lot of homework. It's okay, though; we had lots of fun without you!” As soon as the words were out of Luz’s mouth, she felt like smacking herself. “No, that came out wrong. What I meant was—”

“Luz,” Amity interrupted. “It’s okay.” She gave a slight, reassuring smile.

Luz grasped for something to say that would assuage her guilt. She finally settled on, “We _will_ go crab fishing at some point. Just the two of us.”

That ought to do it. Amity really seemed to enjoy their one-on-one hangout sessions, more so than hanging out in a group. Luz figured it might have to do with Willow; despite making amends, the two former best friends still weren’t really…well, friends.

But Amity didn’t brighten at the promise. Instead, she just stared silently at Luz, some unreadable emotion passing over her face. (The candle cast only a faint glow, and while it was supplemented with magical ceiling lights, those weren’t too bright, either.) Luz returned Amity’s gaze, unsure of what was happening, but unalarmed. Without warning, she noticed the way Amity’s nose tipped upward, ever so slightly, and…huh. It was cute. What a cute nose.

“Well,” Luz said. Nothing to do but plow through the awkward. “I officially call the first session of the Good Witch Azura Appreciation Society to order! Hm…I wish I had a gavel. Should we sit on the floor? I forgot there was only one chair in here.”

“I need to do something,” Amity said, ignoring the question. She sounded weirdly resolute. Luz watched, intrigued, as Amity pulled a tiny glass tube from her shirt pocket and uncorked it. For a split second, the transparent liquid inside shimmered with a faint purple afterimage. A potion of some kind?

Luz frowned. There was something really familiar about that particular shade of purple, but she couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t until Amity downed the contents of the vial in one swift motion that she finally remembered: Eda had once slipped a similar-looking liquid into King’s dinner after he denied drinking the last can of apple blood.

“Is that a truth serum?” Luz asked.

Two things happened at once: Amity’s eyes widened, and she started hacking violently into her arm. Luz reached for Amity in a fit of panic—then realized she had _no idea what to do_. Heimlich maneuver? Did witches even have _lungs??_

But the coughing fit was over as soon as it started. The tension seemed to bleed from Amity’s body: her shoulders lowered, her eyelids drooped, and a placid smile washed over her face. Luz recognized the trance-like state of absolute honesty that she’d seen before in King.

“Yes. This is a truth serum.” Amity spoke in a dreamish, lilting tone, sounding calmer and more relaxed than Luz had ever known her. “That’s exactly why I drank it. I need to tell you something, Luz.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, sure!” Luz took a tiny step backward, her heart still beating a mile a minute. She was surprised and confused and a little curious, but mostly just relieved that Amity hadn’t choked to death.

Amity inhaled deeply. “I’m not romantically interested in you. At all.”

“Okay,” Luz found herself saying. “That’s…fine.” Her mind raced to figure out what was going on. Had Luz somehow given Amity the impression that she liked her romantically? _I mean, she_ is _really pretty…_

“I don’t want to hold your hand all the time,” Amity went on, “or introduce you to people as my girlfriend, or kiss you. And I definitely haven’t had any sexy dreams about you.”

Luz felt her face heating up. “Um, okay, I—that’s kind of a weird thing to just bring up out of nowhere.” Then her embarrassment gave way to panic: an old fear stirred to life, one she’d thought long buried. “But it’s not a problem! We can still be friends! Right?”

Amity’s head lolled a bit. With her muscles so relaxed, it was a miracle she remained standing.

“Luz. _Luz._ ”

She reached forward, resting her limp hands on Luz’s shoulders. She stared at Luz through glassy, half-closed eyes. When she spoke, each word was a knife.

“I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t value the time we spend together. I don’t find you funny or charming. You’re my least favorite person in Hexside—maybe in the whole world.”

Emotions warred in Luz’s breast, raw and unwelcome, like a thousand rivers yanking her in different directions. She wanted to scream, sob, punch, hug, curl up, run away, strangle, cry. Too much. It was too much.

❀

Back in sixth grade, Aiden Clark asked Luz on a date. Stupidly, she said yes. (Luz was only dimly aware that she’d chosen the _run_ option; that she’d left Amity alone in the hideout, still high on truth juice.) Aiden never showed up. Luz stood at the door of the theater for hours; she tried calling him, but he’d either turned off his phone or given her a fake number. The next day in homeroom, Luz heard Aiden and his friends snickering, her name a stage whisper on their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to credit Alex Hirsch for [the three-monger joke](https://twitter.com/_AlexHirsch/status/1315336985666482176), but apparently [many people made it before him](https://twitter.com/search?q=monger%20fish%20fear%20war&src=typed_query). So it goes with jokes, I guess.


	3. More than One Basket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you got emailed about this chapter twice! I ended up deleting and re-posting it due to an AO3 bug, but everything should be okay now. (Protip: Don’t use drafts on AO3.)

“LUZ IS HOME!” screamed Hooty with the same inflection that a normal person might yell _Fire!_ or _Dread stalker!_ or _Tax collector!_

Eda smiled as she looked up from the armchair, a leather-bound tome open on her lap. “Luz! You aren’t gonna believe what I—”

The girl bolted through the open door and practically flew onto the couch; Eda barely had time to register her red, puffy eyes or visibly dripping nose before she landed face-down on the cushions.

For a moment, Eda just watched as silent, shuddering sobs wracked Luz’s shoulders. Then she sighed. “What’s wrong, kid?”

Luz muttered into the couch.

“Speak up, will you.”

She propped herself up with a fist, lifting her head about an inch—“I _don’t_ want to _talk_ about it”—then buried her face in the cushions again.

Eda tried to ignore the frustration rising in the back of her skull. She was, after all, partially responsible for whatever nonsense must have transpired between Luz and the rich girl—like maybe one percent responsible, tops.

(Then again, all the new snails lining her wallet told Eda not to fret too much. That rich girl was _very_ rich, and boy had Eda scammed her good.)

She closed the book, tucked it under her arm, and hoisted herself from the chair. “Well, when you change your mind, I’ll be upstairs.”

She’d barely gone two steps before Luz cried out, “Wait!” The girl sat up—well, slouched up—and regarded her with big, round, sad eyes. “Eda, you don’t secretly hate me, do you?”

Eda felt a chill down her spine. “What? Of course not.”

The answer didn’t make Luz look any less scared or uncertain, so Eda headed to the couch and sat down; Luz obligingly made space.

“I sacrificed my magic for you, kid. I almost sacrificed my _life_ —and I would have, gladly.” Would Luz hear the honesty in her words? “I know I’m not the nicest person in the world, but—”

“No, it’s not you!” Luz said. “Sorry.” She sniffled a little and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Titan’s breath, the girl was a pitiable sight. Eda mustered her most motherly voice and said, “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Luz nodded softly. She took a deep, shaky breath, then began: “Amity had a truth serum today during our secret Azura book club and I don’t even know how she _got_ a truth serum because _you_ said they’re illegal unless you’re in the Emperor’s Guard…”

The story tumbled out of Luz fast and disjointed; she stopped occasionally to cry, but never to catch her breath, so she was practically panting by the time she’d finished.

And…wow. It seemed that Eda was _very_ responsible for Luz’s current emotional state. Like off-the-charts levels of responsible. But she’d also rescued the kid from a shitty friendship, so—wait, hold on, Luz looked like she expected Eda to say something.

“Yeesh. I knew rich people were terrible, but that’s just cruel.”

Luz’s frown quivered. “You think she really meant it?”

“I mean…” Eda opened her hands in a half-shrug. “You saw the potion, right? It seems pretty clear-cut to me. Oh, come on, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. This is a blessing in disguise. Seriously, kid, you’re hurting my eardrums.”

But it was no use: Luz had gone from stifled sobbing to full-throated bawling.

So Eda did the only thing she could think of. She took her arms and kind of…placed them… _around_ Luz—who, thank Titan, leaned into the hug without hesitation. They stayed together for what felt like hours, long after Luz’s tears had subsided. When King awoke from his nap and saw what was happening, he jumped onto Luz’s lap and curled up without a word.

❀

Amity Blight spent the next twelve hours in a state of mild shock: She got home, slept, and muddled through her morning by habit alone. This freed up her brain to try to wrap itself around whatever the _fuck_ had just happened.

The reversed love potion, obviously, had not worked as planned. Had Amity screwed up the spell? Or did reversal magic work differently on love potions than she’d conjectured? Why had the potion forced her to say such… _weirdly specific_ things? And why had Luz misidentified it as a truth serum?

Only one piece of Amity’s mind worked at these questions; another was stuck on the image of Luz’s face right before she’d fled—right as Amity had (unwillingly, unable to wrest control of her tongue from the potion) denounced their friendship. Luz had looked betrayed, upset, and angry…but not surprised.

Why did that bother Amity so much? Luz was clearly the victim of yesterday’s disaster. Amity had no right to feel betrayed, let alone indignant, that Luz had so _easily_ believed Amity would turn on her—that it hadn’t even _occurred_ to Luz that maybe it wasn’t a truth serum, _maybe_ something else was going on.

Of course, she had no intention of explaining what the potion had really been for. Maybe she could lie and say that it was for her…health? Or something?

When Amity took her normal seat next to Willow during second-period demonology, the plant-track witch wordlessly stood up and moved to the back of the room. Amity flushed, wishing she knew an invisibility spell, as the whole class suddenly turned their curious eyes on her.

 _It’s okay,_ she told herself. So Luz had informed Willow about the incident. No big deal. As soon as Amity apologized, things would go back to normal.

The words _I’m sorry_ were on her tongue when she rounded the corner toward the school’s west wing, on her way to fourth-period history. This was the only time Amity ever saw Luz during the school day: They shared no classes, only this one moment in the hallway, walking in opposite directions. Amity had looked forward to it every day for the past Titan knew how many weeks, bubbling with anticipation; Luz would smile at her, or wave, or quickly remind her about something happening after school; then Amity would tune out the first half of her history lecture while she doodled hearts in the margins of her notebook.

 _I’m sorry,_ she would say today. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._ The words echoed in her brain until they drowned out all her other thoughts, drowned out the thudding of her heart.

But when she caught a glance of Luz’s hair, and those cute little human ears—she froze. Yanked her gaze away and sped down the hall. At lunch she sat scrupulously alone, set apart from Luz and her friends by a sea of chattering students. And when the final bell screamed, she all but sprinted home.

Amity avoided Luz the next day, too. And the next day, and the next…

❀

At the close of one school day midway through the week, Amity hurried to her locker, eager to grab what supplies she needed and flee. The more students poured into the hallways, the more their faces blended together in her periphery. She glued her eyes to the floor, not daring to look anyone in the eye lest she happen to see Luz.

To her annoyance, a pair of pink-striped cleats stood before her locker, ankles crossed and teeth bared. The shoes looked as if they’d been magicked to appear brand-new, judging from their obnoxious sheen.

Boscha leaned casually against the locker. She wore her full grudgby getup, face paint and all; her arms were folded across her chest, and a smirk played on her lips when Amity met her gaze.

“I heard you finally ditched your loser friends.”

Amity gritted her teeth. “What do you care?”

Boscha’s shoulder jerked up and down as if tugged by a string. “Me and the girls are gonna hit up the town after today’s game. You free?”

 _Me and the girls_? Amity hadn’t seen Boscha’s clique together for almost a month—ever since the match against Willow. From what she’d heard, the Banshees tolerated Boscha as a teammate, but nothing else.

Just as Amity opened her mouth to voice her confusion, it clicked: the too-practiced smile, the stiffness in her stance. Boscha was _desperate._ She’d lost all her friends, and her social status, in a matter of weeks. She wanted someone from her old gang so she could pretend that she was still on top—pretend that her world hadn’t turned utterly upside down. She needed a friend.

“No.”

Boscha’s smirk stayed frozen in place, but her third eye narrowed. “Tomorrow, then? Weekend also works for me.”

“Oh! Sorry for the confusion,” said Amity with faux congeniality. “I’m _free_ ; I’m just not _interested._ ”

Boscha leaned forward, discarding the cool-girl act and breathing down Amity’s neck like an unchained minotaur. “What gives, Blight?” she spat. “You think you’re better than me?”

Amity almost felt pity for the girl. Almost. But cold indignation had burned a hole in her chest.

“I never wanted to be your friend, you know that? I only tolerated you because my parents forced me to.” Amity kept her voice low, mindful of the spectators at neighboring lockers. “You’re petty and cruel, even to your friends. Narcissistic, shallow, and—Titan’s blood—you are so, _so_ boring.”

Boscha’s expression cycled through shock, hurt, and fury. Through her red-faced scowl, two of her eyes glistened with tears.

“It is _no_ small pleasure to watch you finally get your comeuppance. There is _nothing_ I want less than your friendship. So yeah, that’s a ‘no’ from me.”

Amity reached behind Boscha and rapped twice on her locker. “Open up,” she said at a normal volume. The demon obligingly unraveled its tongue; Amity grabbed a saliva-tinged notebook. 

Boscha punched her in the mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began writing this fic before episode 19 aired, so Lilith doesn’t really have a place in it. If you like, you can imagine her in the background of every scene that takes place in the Owl House, malevolently knitting a scarf.


	4. Intermission

Amity’s stomach twisted itself into knots. Her hand gripped the brass doorknob. Its carvings writhed like insects at her touch. A Blight spared no expense, even for the most private rooms. She turned the knob, opened the door. Ink and leather met her nose. A stack of parchment lay on the desk: neat, tidy.

Mother didn’t look up. “Who was that girl on your crystal ball the other day?” she asked over the scraping of her quill.

So this was about Luz, not Boscha. Fair enough. Healing magic still pulsed in Amity’s lip, earthy and cold; an illusion suppressed the bruise.

“Just some nobody. A transfer student.” A practiced lie. “She got it into her head that we were friends, but I set her straight.”

Amity’s stomach was doing flips. Amity felt the dark green walls folding in on her. Amity couldn’t breathe. Amity knew that these were normal sensations, when lying to one’s parents.

Mother dismissed her with a hum of satisfaction.


	5. Abominogenesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** Gross squishy material components, sibling abuse

Without light, Amity worked by touch. Her fingers moved slowly along the surface of her desk, taking in the grain of the wood, navigating around the beetle trap, the various porcelain bowls, and the oversized glass jar, until they finally brushed against the pile of blisterroot. She grabbed a handful, then carefully made her way to the darkest corner of her bedroom.

Faint gurgling sounds emanated from the open vat. Abominations often displayed early signs of self-awareness; this one was no different. Amity lowered the first bit of blisterroot into the batch. The gurgling subsided, replaced by a faint hiss as the rubbery herb assimilated into the abomination’s flesh. She swirled her free hand around in the vat; as the plant dissolved, the mix grew steadily more viscous. Getting the texture right was the hardest part: Too firm, and the abomination would become inflexible; too thin, and it would just be a pile of useless slime, like when Willow—

 _Nope,_ no, absolutely not: no thinking about Willow or _anyone_ else or any _thing_ else besides this midterm project, and the essay she still needed to find time to write, and the extra credit assignment she’d begged her demonology teacher for even though her grades in that class were already flawless. Right now, the _only_ thing that mattered was the viscosity of this semi-sentient sludge.

Once satisfied, Amity navigated back to her desk with slow, careful steps. Her stomach growled; she licked her hand free of blisterroot residue. It was, technically, edible.

Amity reached for the jar. Its silhouette loomed over the desk, visible even in the darkness. She unscrewed the cap, then plunged her slightly less dirty hand into the container; the gel squelched between her fingers, wet but solid, and the eyeballs _moved_ whenever she touched them, and—Titan’s heart, this part never got easier.

Eventually Amity selected one eyeball from among the bunch. It squirmed between her ring and middle fingers as she felt around for another.

A loud knock sounded at her door.

“Mittens?”

“Mitteeeeens!”

With a flare of annoyance, Amity released the eye back to its horde, screwed the cap back on, and started to feel around the floor for the cover of the abomination vat. It couldn’t be exposed to light this early in the process: Abominogenesis required darkness.

“Open up, we wanna talk!”

“Amityyyyyyy!”

“We know you’re in there!”

She finally got the vat sealed, then threw open her door, blinking back the afternoon sunlight. “Would you pipe down? I’m _trying_ to work!”

Emira affected a smile. Judging from their casual dress, the twins had cut class today. “Easy there. We just want to collect on a loan.”

“With interest, of course,” added Edric as he craned his neck to scan the room. “We’re interested in—ugh, it smells like shit in here. Are you doing drugs? _Without us?_ ”

He dropped his rehearsed tone for this self-interruption, which granted Amity a small measure of satisfaction. But his joke sent panic spiking in her chest.

“I’m doing _homework._ ” She enunciated loudly, so that everyone could hear. “Just because you two don’t have what it takes for the abomination track—”

Em put a hand on Amity’s shoulder, silencing her. “Relax, Mittens. I disabled the spell. They can’t hear us right now.” Then she scrunched up her nose. “Ed’s right. You should open a window.”

 _Disabled_ it? How in the world…?

No. Knowing Ed and Em, they were probably lying just to get her in trouble.

“What do you want?” Amity demanded.

Ed kept searching the room. “Ah, there it is.” He flicked his fingers, and before Amity could get indignant about the twins invading her personal space, Ed’s copy of _Advanced Potioncraft for Aspiring Minds_ floated off the floor and landed in his hand.

“We heard about what happened with the human,” Emira said.

 _No._ Amity’s stomach sank. Absolutely not. Not _now,_ not _ever,_ and _not_ with these two.

Em’s hand still weighed on Amity’s shoulder—a parody of sisterly affection. Amity backed away and shoved the arm off, smearing eyeball juice on the sleeve of Em’s jacket.

“At least, we think we did.” Ed pinched the textbook’s binding and let it hang open. “You know how rumors are.”

“Get out of my room.”

“We’re _interested,_ ” Em said, “in what actually happened between you two.”

“Aha!” Ed flipped to a page that Amity couldn’t see. “Got it.”

“We know you can be a mean-spirited snob sometimes,” Em continued, “but even for you, this is—”

 _Get OUT!_ Amity tried to yell, but instead she poured her heart and lungs into a full-throated _scream_. Something shattered behind her. A gooey purple hand crashed into the twins, and they tumbled into the hallway wearing matching expressions of shock. The door slammed shut as the hand returned to its demolished vat. It was dark again.

Amity breathed. In. Out. She did not trust herself to speak. Or to move. She could only hope that Emira had, by some miracle, been telling the truth—that they’d found a workaround for the spell which allowed Mother and Father to hear every sound uttered under the roof of Blight Manor—because a noise so uncouth hadn’t left Amity’s mouth since…well, probably since she’d been an infant.

It took Amity several minutes before she became aware, and horrified, of the tear pooling on the wing of her nose.

❀

Edric blinked away the spots in his vision. He reached to rub his head, which throbbed like nobody’s business, but found his right arm immobilized—stuck, he realized, to Emira. They’d gotten themselves glued to each other and to the floor, bound by a clot of purple, dripping shit. What a metaphor.

He cleared his throat. “Well, that could have gone a lot worse.”

“Seriously?” Em had taken the brunt of the blow; purple gunk oozed down her…everything. She tried to wipe her face with her free arm, but only succeeded in mixing together two different purples into a new and exciting third shade of purple. “When’s the last time we got a tantrum out of her?”

“Our fifteenth birthday party,” Ed said automatically.

“ _It was a rhetorical question._ ”

“You’re in a mood.”

Getting unstuck took ten minutes of tugging, pushing, scraping, bitching at each other, and fire magic. Ed survived with a ripped sleeve, a headache, and a ruined textbook. Em, however, still looked like an abomination herself by the time they were done.

Mittens’ little outburst had pushed them almost to the end of the corridor. Abominable stains decorated the formerly pristine hallway, with its perfect silent walls and perfect blood trim and perfect tamed carpet. Mom and Pop wouldn’t be happy about the mess—but that was a problem for tomorrow’s Edric.

“So.” Ed worked his newly unstuck arm in circles as he addressed his better half. “You wanna get back in there, make amends, see what’s actually going on?”

Emira looked at him like he’d just suggested they go frolic in the boiling rain.

“Oh, come on,” he pushed. “I know you care. Deeeeep down.”

“Sure. And if she decides to stop being a brat about it, maybe I’ll care a little more.

“I’m taking a bath,” she declared, then stalked off in the direction of the nearest washroom.

Ed clucked his tongue. “Such a defeatist.”

Emira flipped him off without looking back. The gunk on her person had mostly dried, so she didn’t leave too many new stains in her wake. And the ones she did…hm. An illusion big enough for the whole hallway would be too taxing to maintain for long, even with Em’s help. Maybe something mirrored?

 _Tomorrow’s Edric,_ he reminded himself. He’d have plenty of time to figure out a solution, as Mom and Pop wouldn’t return from their business trip for another few days. Today, he needed to fix a bigger mess.

Ed knocked on Mittens’ door. No response.

“Amity?” he tried. Probably best to lay off the nickname—for now.

“ _What?_ ” Even through the closed door, her voice sounded hoarse and strangled.

Ed counted to ten in his head, for dramatic effect. Then, “Sorry.” In response to another, even more severe silence, he continued, “We’re just looking out for you. You know that, right? We’d never do anything to hurt you.”

The seconds turned into minutes. Ed began to worry that he’d run out of luck. His exposed arm itched, and he scratched at it absently.

The door creaked open. Amity had washed herself, but only hastily; purple flecks still clung to her forearms and elbows. Despite her short stature and bloodshot eyes, she loomed large in the doorway of her lair.

“That is _demonstrably_ false,” she said.

Edric wanted to argue the point, but now probably wasn’t the time. “Can I come in?”

Amity jerked her head in the direction of the desk chair as she withdrew into the room. Ed took a seat—Titan’s _tits,_ it smelled rancid in here, like vomit and wet mulch—while Amity climbed onto her mattress. Ed did not look at all the esoteric ingredients arranged on Mittens’ desk; he especially did not look at the jar of disembodied eyeballs, at least a dozen of which must be staring at him right now. Instead he watched Amity smear bits of abomination goo onto her perfectly made bed as she shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Finally she lay on her back, arms placed awkwardly across her chest—almost but not quite a hug. Even with the light spilling in from the hallway, Amity looked half-shrouded in shadow.

Edric waited for her to settle down before he spoke. “You and Luz were such good friends.”

Amity winced. “Don’t—I’m not—I mean, did Emira actually…?” She trailed off, and it took Edric a second to realize what she meant.

“Oh, yeah. Totally. She figured out a way to feed false info into the web without setting off the countermeasures.”

Amity looked doubtful.

Just as well. Edric cleared his throat; he’d been waiting for a chance to use this line. “I cordially invite anyone and everyone eavesdropping on this conversation, but _especially_ stuck-up sycophantic bureaucrats whose names rhyme with ‘Rodalia’ and ‘Malador,’ to suck my—”

“ _Okay I believe you._ ”

Ed grinned. Amity, however, was not in a laughing mood; her gaze went distant. So he sighed, loudly, hoping that he sounded the right mix of exasperated and compassionate.

“Can you tell me what happened? Please?”

Mittens took her sweet time answering—and when she finally deigned to speak, she did so only haltingly, as if straining against tears, and she didn’t look at Edric. “I tried a reversal spell. On a love potion. Make it so that. I could stop being so. Fucking. Head over heels for her.”

It took Ed a second to process his sister’s confession. That was…okay, _wow_.

He waited for the rest of the story, but Amity had gone silent.

“I…see. And it made you hate her instead?”

“No!” Amity said quickly. “I mean, maybe. I don’t know. But it didn’t. It wasn’t _me_ when I—” She took a deep, quaking breath. “Remember when you and Em set a feral ghost loose at one of Mom’s galas? And it possessed a bunch of people?”

Ed smiled. “Of course.”

“It was. Like that. As if this. _Other person_ was inside me. And I couldn’t. _Do_ anything, I just. Watched.”

Edric nodded, beginning to understand. “Uh huh. So you screwed up the spell, turned a love potion into, what, some kind of ‘tell your crush you hate her’ syrup?”

Amity flinched into herself: shoulders tensing, fingernails digging into the skin of her arm. “Yeah. Something like that.”

_Oh, Mittens._

A lot of complicated emotions happened inside Edric all at once. The realization and shock that Amity had _grown up_ , that their difference in age mattered less now than it ever had. Anger at their parents, and he didn’t even know why, just that they _must_ be at fault for her misery, somehow. And above it all, tenderness. The sudden urge to walk across the room, brush the hair from Amity’s eyes—or fuck it, _hug_ her, let Amity bury her tears in Edric’s chest and not in the back of her throat.

A long silence stretched between them. Ed stayed on his chair; Amity kept her eyes on the ceiling. He scratched self-consciously at his arm.

“What if…” Amity’s voice was so small, Edric almost didn’t hear it; maybe he’d imagined it.

The silence soldiered on for another moment, until he finally addressed the giraffe in the room. “Have you thought about, you know, _explaining_ everything to her?” 

“I…” Amity started, then trailed off again. She turned over on her side, looking to Edric with unmasked desperation. “Can I ask you a favor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost named this fic after the song [“Love Stuck” by Mother Mother](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFSsyFum8mI).


	6. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** Physical abuse

_ Dear Luz, _

_ I am so, so sorry for what I did to you last week. _

_ I understand if you never want to speak to me again. _

_ I want to explain what happened. _

_ I didn’t drink a truth serum. I made the potion myself, but it didn’t work the way I intended. (It was for a really stupid, embarrassing reason that I’d rather not tell you about.) Instead, when I drank that potion, I lost control of my own body. I watched from the sidelines as somebody else puppeted my mouth and said awful, unforgivable things to you. _

_ Again, I am so,  _ _ so _ _ sorry. _

_ I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this sooner. I should have explained myself and apologized as soon as I got the chance. In retrospect, though, it’s good that I didn’t. It gave me time to think. _

_ I’ve read about cases where people under the influence of a truth serum say things that they don’t even realize are true. Once, a witch didn’t realize that he was in an unhappy marriage until he said so in trance. The serum taps into a well of personal beliefs deeper than the conscious mind. _

_ I don’t think I drank an actual truth serum, but I think it might have been similar, somehow. I think it tapped into something deep. _

_ If there is one thing I know, if there is one thing that I’ve learned since I met you, it’s that I am not, deep down, a good person. Until very recently, I thought that being good was about following the rules, and making sure other people followed the rules. I can’t believe how wrong I was. I hurt people. I can’t count the number of times I got Ed and Em into trouble for totally harmless jokes. Not to mention that I got you banned from Hexside. And almost dissected. _

_ But it’s worse than that. Luz, I spent almost seven years  _ _ tormenting _ _ Willow. I told myself that I was protecting her. That’s how I…rationalized it, I guess. But my parents never ordered me to ruin Willow’s life. They just wanted us to stop being friends. I didn’t have to rub it in her face. I didn’t have to make fun of Willow behind her back or give her mean nicknames, or host parties where I invited the whole class except her. But I did. _

_ There’s one time. I don’t know if Willow told you about it. We were still young, maybe ten, but it was after we split up. I saw her in the hallway one day. It was during class, we both happened to be going to the bathroom at the same time or something, so we were alone in the hallway. And I just sort of realized that I could get away with almost anything. No teacher would take Willow’s word over mine. So I walked over to her and I…pushed her over. Onto the ground. When she tried to get up, I did it again. And again. And over and over again. I didn’t feel bad about it. In fact, I liked it. How messed up is that? I actually enjoyed being a bully. _

_ Do you understand what I’m saying? When I drank that potion, I felt like someone was controlling me. I felt powerless as “someone” forced me to say awful, horrible things to you. But there was nobody else. No ghosts, no brain leeches, no puppeteers. It was me, Luz. I said those things. _

_ I’ve been a miserable, self-pitying wreck for the last week, because I never, never in a million years, would have said those things to you, if I had the choice. I’m never going to forgive myself for what I did. But there’s still a small piece of me that’s happy with what happened. Happy that I  _ _ can _ _ hurt you. Happy that I have that kind of power. I hate that piece of me. I want to kill it with fire. But it’s there, and I don’t think it’s ever going away. _

_ So I really, honestly understand if you never want to talk to me again, or look at me, or think about me. _

_ But there are some things I didn’t say, while in trance, and I want to say them now. Maybe, deep down, I don’t believe any of it, because deep down I’m not a good person. But it still feels true, right now, and I want to say it. _

_ You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and brave. You always stand up for what you know is right; you make it look so easy. You have an amazing sense of humor. You have insightful and interesting things to say about the Good Witch Azura series. Luz, you have given me so many reasons to admire you, and I admire you so, so much.  _ [The last section of the paragraph, just an inch or two of text, had been scribbled out with such vigor that the words were unreadable.]

_ Thank you for making me laugh with all your dumb jokes. Thanks for laughing at my dumb jokes. Thanks for lending me your Azura book. Thank you for believing that I could be a good person, even when you had no reason to. Thank you for being my friend. I’m so, so honored that I got to be yours. _

_ I’m sorry. _

[The part of the letter that should say “Sincerely” was also scribbled out.] _  
_ _ Amity _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a poem prepared for today’s endnotes, but, eh, it’s a little graphic for this fic. You can read it [here](https://psytog.tumblr.com/post/635887618745303040/) if you want.


	7. The White Blossom Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a heads up, I moved the content warnings from the additional tags to the author’s notes: some in the opening of the work, and a few at the start of specific chapters. The warnings themselves haven’t changed, although chapter 8 will have one extra warning that didn’t appear in the tags. Also, I made some minor tweaks to chapter 1—basically just formatting changes, nothing that will force you into a reread. Anyway _*cracks knuckles*_ let’s fucking do this.

Luz twiddled her thumbs. The motion upset the seeds glued to her palms, so she stopped—placed her hands flat on her thighs—tried to sit still—waited. Butterflies scratched at her stomach, and every muscle in her body was poised to spring as soon as the bookcase-door slid open.

She’d lit the candle on Amity’s desk with a fire glyph, but darkness still clung to the room, and she had no idea how to activate the magical ceiling lights—so after a few minutes of fruitless, thumb-twiddling-less waiting, she pulled a stack of light glyphs from her bag and sent them floating one by one. A gentle, rolling luminescence filled the chamber, like something out of a Disney movie.

Perfect.

Except… _was_ it perfect? Luz tapped her foot, fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves, tried and failed to swallow her nervous euphoria.

❀

“Now that we’re officially friends,” Luz declared, pointing her pencil up at Amity, “I need your real opinion about book five.”

Amity glanced up from her textbook. She sat on the couch, her cast supported by a pillow. Gus and Willow were gone; the two remaining girls had spent the last few minutes in companionable silence, Luz on the floor sketching glyphs while Amity read.

Then she shrugged. “I dunno, it was fine.”

“Oh c’mon, Blight, it’s just us,” Luz teased. “You don’t need to _pretend_ not to care.”

“All _right,_ all right,” Amity said, smiling. “I liked it. Obviously.”

Luz brightened at the confession, even though—obviously—she’d already known. “What did you think of the last scene?” she asked—then added in her best, most melodramatic voice, “The _emotion!_ The _symbolism!_ And without a single line of dialogue!”

Amity’s smile faltered, and she looked…worried? Pensive? “I think I know what you’re talking about,” she said slowly, “but explain it anyway.”

Naturally, Luz needed no further invitation. “Okay so _on the surface_ Hecate is just, you know, waving a white flag in surrender, basically saying their rivalry is over. But there’s also—”

“A flag?” Amity cut in.

“Oh, there’s not really a flag, just like, symbolically. She’s throwing a white flag at Azura’s feet.”

Amity cocked her eyebrow. “Hecate gives Azura flowers, not a flag. And she doesn’t put them on the ground.”

“Yeah, but they’re _white_ flowers.”

“So?”

“White means surrender.”

“Says who?”

“Uh…” Good question. “Maybe it’s a human thing?”

Amity’s utter incredulity touched a nerve somewhere deep inside Luz.

“Anyway,” she continued, because why not, really, “the flowers also showed up during Azura and Hecate’s first battle, in book one—the Orchard of Sorrows had tons of them—so it’s kind of an in-joke, like Hecate’s saying, _Hey, remember when we tried to kill each other? Crazy times, amiright?_ ”

Amity snorted. “Okay, _that_ one makes sense. And good catch! I didn’t notice that.”

“Thanks!” Luz said, a little loudly—the old hurt supplanted, temporarily, by _overwhelming glee_ at the fact that someone had not only tolerated but _complimented_ her weird obsessive tendency to reread everything ten times and notice every tiny detail, and not just anyone, but _Amity,_ and she’d also _laughed,_ which was _such an incredible sound,_ and—

“I just thought it was kind of cute,” Amity said, breaking Luz’s train of thought—and now it was Luz’s turn to be confused.

“Cute?”

“Yeah, you know.” She was blushing a little, and her eyes were turned away from Luz, fixed once more on the abomination textbook. “Getting flowers for someone…I guess maybe it’s different in the human world, but over here, you usually only do that if you like someone.” Her words hung in the air for a moment before she clarified: “Romantically, I mean.”

“Oh.” It seemed obvious, now that Amity had spelled it out. But somehow, in all her rereads, Luz had never picked up on that subtext. “Huh.”

❀

Luz sprang to her feet at the first sounds of wood scraping wood. Her heart beat so fast that her chest _hurt_ —like, a lot. As the secret entrance opened, daylight interrupted her floating glyphs. And then Luz’s breath caught in her chest: Amity stood before her, still as a deer.

Luz couldn’t speak. Maybe she was having a heart attack? Amity looked like she was pretending to be a statue: mouth hanging slightly open, hand frozen in a sort of half-raised position. She looked ridiculous. She looked beautiful. Luz regained enough sense to clap her hands—twice.

 _Are you sure you want to do this?_ Willow had asked less than an hour ago. _I know you think you’ve got it all figured out, but…you could be wrong._

Maybe. Maybe. But she’d asked Willow to complete the spell anyway.

It happened in a flash of green light: The seeds on Luz’s hands sprouted into thin, knobby branches, and upon the branches bloomed dozens of small white flowers, five petals apiece. Still not trusting her mouth to make the correct noises, Luz wordlessly extended the bouquet to Amity with both hands. She managed, at least, to smile.

Amity looked at the flowers, then at Luz. Then the flowers. Then Luz. An orb of light drifted between them, obscuring Amity’s face for a handful of excruciating seconds. When it finally floated off, Luz saw that Amity wasn’t smiling back. All emotion and color had drained from her face.

“I don’t…” Amity spoke in barely a whisper. Then she broke her statuesque pose, turning to close the bookcase behind her.

Luz stepped back, giving Amity space to work the door. Her fingers tightened around the flowers. Amity moved with meticulous, deliberate care, until finally the bookcase clicked into place. The dancing orbs became once more the only major light source. The words to “Kiss the Girl” ran through Luz’s head.

“You don’t…?” she prompted. Her voice cracked on the second word, and she bit her lip.

Amity turned back around; she didn’t look at Luz, opting instead to stare at the blossoms. She might have looked bashful but for her bloodless face.

Worry tugged at Luz’s breast. Had Willow’s fears been justified? Had Luz come to the wrong conclusion? Did Amity really, actually…hate her?

“I don’t understand,” Amity said at last.

Luz stretched out the flowers again, her arms stiff and straight. “I want to put the past behind us. I want to be your friend again.” She’d practiced these words a dozen times in the mirror—could recite them in her sleep if need be. Still, she took a deep breath before continuing. “But also, if you want to be… _not just friends?_ I want that, too.”

Amity’s eyes widened, and her hands balled into fists. “But…but… _why._ ”

Okay, big reveal time. “You didn’t drink a truth serum,” Luz said, “you drank an _anti-truth_ serum.”

Amity blinked.

“Eda lied to you!” Luz said in a rush. “She didn’t sell you a love potion, she sold you a truth serum, and you didn’t mess up the spell, you did it perfectly: You turned a truth serum into a potion that _forces you to lie_.”

Instead of the excitement Luz had expected, Amity’s eyes widened in horror. “How…how did you know about—”

“Edric told me! When he dropped off your letter, and then he said not to tell you that he…oh.” _Whoops._

Amity closed her eyes and nodded—Luz couldn’t tell whether it was an _Okay, cool_ nod or an _I’m going to murder him_ nod. A few seconds passed in utter stillness—an eternity—before Amity opened her eyes.

“You like me.” She wore a tight, neutral expression. “Not just as a friend. You…like me the way I like you.” It was halfway between a question and a statement.

Luz swallowed her fears, her hopes and hesitations and what-ifs, the lump of hurt lodged in her throat, and _moved_ : bundled the bouquet in one hand, closed the distance between them in two quick strides, and reached for Amity’s hand with her own. Their fingers interlocked, and when Amity’s eyes widened, Luz smiled. (It was a genuine smile. She _did_ feel happy. Even if…)

“Yeah,” Luz said. “I do.”

Maybe it had been a long time coming. Maybe not. Luz had yet to put her feelings under a microscope. But holding hands and locking eyes with Amity, _seeing_ her under the soft glow of the light glyphs—

“Can I kiss you?”

Amity blushed scarlet. Luz felt her cheeks follow suit as she belatedly realized that _she_ had spoken those words: that _she_ had asked _Amity_ for a kiss. What the fuck.

“Uh, yeah,” Amity said. “That sounds—good, very, yes—”

Heart thundering, Luz leaned forward; Amity kept on stammering until their mouths met. Okay. Okay. This was happening. Their lips just kind of rested on each other for a moment, before Luz took it upon herself to innovate…move things around and…okay. All right.

Luz kept an eye on Amity the whole time—because she was supposed to, right? Make sure Amity was enjoying herself?—and after maybe fifteen seconds, she noticed Amity’s posture was stiff, and that she wasn’t really contributing to the kiss so much as passively accepting it. So Luz pulled back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes. Sorry.” Still unsmiling, Amity untangled her fingers from Luz’s, then, eyes averted, started to smooth a section of her shirt that didn’t need smoothing.

Luz’s legs locked up; her heart skipped a beat. “‘Sorry’?”

Amity’s gaze shifted. “This is _amazing_ and _you’re_ amazing, and I can’t believe you actually—” She cut off abruptly, sniffled a little, and wiped at her eye. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Amity, it’s…” Luz was drowning; she couldn’t tell which way was up, and she hardly had the strength to look. “It’s okay to cry.”

Luz watched something break inside Amity: watched her mask crack and her eyes begin to water. Then she reached over, wrapped Amity in a tight hug, and followed her own advice. The flowers fell to the floor.

Luz didn’t talk, didn’t think—just let it happen. Her lungs heaved and her shoulders shook. Her tears ran down the back of Amity’s uniform. She clung to Amity like a life preserver, and Amity hugged her back, firm and gentle.

At times Luz thought she heard, past the sounds of her own sobbing, Amity’s. A sniffle here, a hiccup there, a low-pitched whine like an overworked fridge. Luz didn’t react—couldn’t—except to double the force of her hug. It felt good, the press of their bodies: intimate and real, in a way the kiss hadn’t.

“Don’t— _leave_ me again,” Luz managed to choke out.

Amity’s fingers tightened against her back. “I won’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Luz. This—everything—it was…a little overwhelming, I guess.”

“ _I’m_ sorry!” Luz didn’t want to see Amity’s face yet—didn’t want the hug to end. “I thought…once I found out what happened, I thought I could just… _tell_ you and…everything would go back to normal. Better than normal,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to—want to think about—”

It attacked without warning. Something sharp escaped her lips—a gasp, or a growl, or a scream, she didn’t know.

“Luz!” Amity exclaimed. Then, softer, “Luz…”

She barely noticed Amity’s sudden squeeze of a hug, or the hand now resting on the back of her head. Sundered, she gave herself to tears.

❀

It came in waves. Always, just when Luz thought she’d cried herself dry, the pain would crash into her again. Back and forth. In and out. Carnage and respite. Through it all, Amity held her—not even letting go when they lowered themselves to the floor, backs to the wall. She tightened her hug whenever Luz wept. She wept, too.

In time, and with effort, Luz told her everything. About Aiden Clark. And the handful of other times when classmates had pretended to befriend Luz. As a joke. Or a dare.

“So when you drank the potion and— _said_ that, I thought…” Luz trailed off, her throat tightening.

Amity squeezed her. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.” It had become her refrain.

The ceiling lights cast the room in a uniform white glow. Luz had dispelled her glyphs—they’d been giving her a headache.

“Can you…touch my hair again?” Luz asked. She felt embarrassed in spite of herself—this was all so new. “That was nice.”

Amity shifted her hand from Luz’s shoulder to her head. “Like this?”

Luz nodded. Amity began to stroke Luz’s hair—and the next wave hit. Luz’s tears seemed to trigger Amity’s; they cried together.

After the worst of it had—for the time being—passed, Luz managed to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. This is wonderful.”

Luz tilted her head to look up at Amity. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her makeup was ruined. But she was smiling, and it didn’t seem forced.

She must have sensed Luz’s confusion. “I’ve had an awful week, and I didn’t realize…how much I needed this.” She wiped her eyes with her free hand, the one that wasn’t idly playing with Luz’s hair. “I’m sad, but…good sad. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course. Nothing wrong with a good cry.” A lesson she’d learned long ago.

“…yeah,” Amity said, like the idea had never occurred to her.

Their eyes were locked. Luz hesitated briefly, then reached for Amity’s cheek; Amity closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. She cupped Amity’s cheek in her hand, brushing away the tears with her thumb, awestruck.

“I really _really_ like you, Amity.” She wasn’t _speaking_ so much as _opening her mouth and letting her emotions loose._ “I’m excited to see where this goes! I want to go on dates and hold your hand and cuddle and—and kiss if you want to! And tell the whole world that we’re dating! And—”

“I want to,” Amity said.

“What?”

“Kiss.” She opened her eyes after a moment. “If you…want to try again.”

 _Yes,_ said Luz’s heart, and, “Sure, what could go wrong?” said her mouth—because she was an idiot who couldn’t help but crack jokes at the _worst,_ most inappropriate times.

Amity laughed. A light chuckle, the span of a second—but God, she _laughed,_ and Luz found herself laughing, too. The tension in her chest loosened.

They tried again. Amity confirmed that she, too, was a novice—that she’d only had one other crush, years ago, and never worked up the nerve to confess. In time, and with practice, they found a rhythm. The sensation of another’s lips on Luz’s own, the surprisingly sour taste of witch tears, the wrung-out laughter that accompanied each misstep: it wasn’t at all how Luz had pictured this unfolding. No, this was much better.

She saw that the flowers had been moved onto the desk, atop a dignified-looking smear of purple goop. Amity must have summoned an abomination while Luz had been too distraught to notice.

“Oh!” Luz said, pulling away from the kiss. “I almost forgot.” Wow, her lips felt weird. Not physically, but like, psychologically. She rummaged through her bag, procured a wad of cash, and proffered it to Amity. “I made Eda give you a refund.”

Amity looked at her curiously for a second, and—well, Luz wasn’t sure who laughed first, but soon they were both howling. The whole situation _was_ kind of absurd. They fed off each other’s laughter until they’d each succumbed to a full-blown giggle fit: Whenever Luz _almost_ got herself under control, watching Amity shake with silent hysteria was enough to set her off again.

Then Amity kissed her. It took Luz completely by surprise: One second she was nursing a stitch in her side, and the next Amity had yanked her into a tight embrace and pressed her face into Luz’s. She found herself melting—muscles slack in Amity’s grip—every inch of her body on fire.

The hug loosened. The kiss ended. Luz opened her eyes, only just realizing that they’d been closed. Amity looked surprised—and a little embarrassed. Her hands rested on Luz’s hips.

“Sorry, um, was that…?”

Luz nodded. Enthusiastically, she hoped. 

And then—because this seemed as good a time as any to sate her curiosity—she nudged Amity with her elbow and said, “Have any dreams about me lately?”

“Yes, actually,” Amity replied without missing a beat. “I had a dream last week about the white blossom scene. You were Hecate, and I was Azura—kind of. It was weird.” Her gaze was somewhere beyond Luz—maybe on the desk. “But seeing you in here today, with the flowers…” She snorted. “I thought I was dreaming again.”

She didn’t seem to have caught Luz’s drift—or was deliberately ignoring it. Luz decided not to press the matter. After all, Amity hadn’t willingly volunteered the information about her sexy dreams. (Luz would cherish it nonetheless. Being crushed on was one thing, but to know that someone liked her like _that_ was a different thrill entirely.)

“You better not be dreaming,” Luz said instead, lightly teasing. “I don’t want to wake up and find out none of this happened.”

Amity’s eyebrow rose. “Wouldn’t that mean _you_ were dreaming?”

“Oh yeah. Uh, I really hope I don’t…just straight-up disappear?”

Amity kissed her again. Hard.

“ _Please_ don’t,” she insisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cookie for everyone who figured out the truth as soon as chapter 3 dropped.


	8. Next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** Alcohol, mild vomit, references to magically induced incestuous attraction. (All three warnings apply only to the second scene.)

Emira sank into the couch with an explosive sigh. Sweat coated her brow. Her casting hand trembled faintly. She looked out of place—mundane—against the iridescent unicornhide sofa.

“We’re good,” she coughed.

Words spoken freely in Blight Manor still sounded wrong to Edric’s ears. Even though they’d already done this twice before. Portraits of Blights long passed lined the walls, gazing at them in lifeless judgment.

He tried to sound unconcerned when he asked, “You all right?”

“Yeah.” Emira mopped her forehead. “Worth it. Tonight will be…worth it.”

Parents out of town, house to themselves. Why not throw a party? Edric never thought he’d get the chance for something like this—not _here,_ not in this house—until Emira had cracked the surveillance spell just a few weeks ago.

While Em recovered her magic, Ed began his illusions. Loudspeakers, lights, a mini-grudby table, and distinctly _un_ refined furniture to match. Warm-ups, spelled to vanish after a few minutes. He’d conjure the real stuff just before the first guests arrived.

“You talked to Mittens, right?” came Emira’s voice. “She won’t squeal on us?”

Edric stopped halfway through a spell circle. It sputtered and fizzled, the magic lost. “No. She’s not talking to me.”

His mind flashed back to their last conversation— _abused my trust_ and _can’t believe I opened up to you_ and _asshole_ and _jerk_ and—worst of all— _horrible person, you know that?_

Emira chuckled. “Sucks to be you.”

“Yeah.” He knew Em was joking. He shouldn’t mind. “I single-handedly fixed all her problems, set her up with a girl she’s too cockshit to ask out herself, and somehow _I’m_ the bad guy?”

She grunted her indifference. Ed tried to get back to the illusions, but they kept coming out wrong. His chairs faced only left. His cups and pitchers cast no shadow. Rookie mistakes.

He met the gaze of Great-Great Grandma Amadamira Blight, eternally frozen in loving condescension, and scowled.

❀

The rhyme Eda had learned in high school— _One to get buzzed, two to get wrecked, three to remember, four to forget_ —was wrong. Nine cans in, she felt _utterly_ fine. Sleepy, maybe—she staggered from the kitchen to the living room, almost colliding with the wall, and collapsed sideways across an armchair—but _fine._ And she hadn’t forgotten yet. Fucking low-grade apple blood.

The second she lay down, the sound of clacking needles met her skull like a rabid jackhammer.

“Lilith,” she said. “Darling. Sister. Do you have to knit so _loud?_ ”

“I’m being completely silent.”

Eda threw up a little in her mouth and swallowed it before continuing. “To a _deaf_ person, maybe. My ears are honed. I’ve got _owl ears_.”

“So do I,” said Lilith with an edge to her voice, “and _I_ can’t hear a thing.” 

“I have owl ears, too, hoot!”

“Hey. Back me up, Hooty. She’s being _super_ loud right now, right?” Maybe the dumb owl would come in handy.

“I cannot be an unbiased judge, hoot! Each vibration strikes a chord with my undying soul, hoot hoot!”

The words bounced around in Eda’s head for a moment, finding no purchase. “I think I’m dreaming.”

“You’re _drunk,_ Edalyn.”

“Oh yeah.”

Eda drifted in and out of consciousness from then. In the morning, she would only remember two more snippets of conversation. (There might’ve been more—eight and a half cans would do that to a witch.)

First: “Luz is mad at me.”

Lilith sighed. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

“Yeah. Prob’ly.”

Then, some unknown number of minutes or hours later: “Hey. Hey. Hey Lily.” 

No response—just the Titan-forsaken sound of needles rubbing yarn.

“Lilyyyyyyy.”

“ _What?_ ”

Hah. It was funny when she got mad.

Eda collected her thoughts. “Remember when Dimitri slipped that…thing. Potion. Love thing. In my drink. Love potion.”

Silence. No words, no needles.

“Yes,” Lilith said finally. “Why do you ask?”

“Dunno. Guess it’s on my mind.”

“Being wooed by my little sister was, by far, the single most uncomfortable experience of my life. Personally, I’d rather forget about the whole ordeal.”

Eda grinned, craning her neck to look up at Lilith. “I’ve got a potion for that.”

❀

“I still can’t believe you guys don’t have beaches.” Luz stood with her arms outstretched, balancing on a thin outcrop of rock that ran alongside the main path. Her face scrunched up in determination as she took her next step.

Over the past few days—what little time they’d made between school and family—Amity had discovered just how much she loved _looking_ at Luz. Of course, this wasn’t exactly new. But it was different, now that they were dating. She didn’t have to worry that Luz would catch her staring and get weirded out. Luz actually _liked_ it when Amity stared at her. What a world.

Before them rose a sheer osseous wall, caked with moss and crisscrossed with winding paths—one of the Titan’s ribs, although they were too close to appreciate the true shape. Somewhere up the cliff lay the entrance to the Whistling Caves. Amity had only heard stories of the mystical oath crabs who lived here. Before they began their hike, however, Luz had insisted on trying to balance-walk her way across the outcrop—and Amity was happy to oblige.

“What are beaches?” she asked, finally taking the bait.

Luz grinned as she teetered. “They’ve got like…sand, and water, aaaaand woah, _woah!_ ”

Amity reacted without thinking. Before she knew it, she’d grabbed Luz by the small of her back, entirely supporting the human’s weight. Their faces were _very_ close. Luz’s flushed expression must have matched Amity’s own.

Then Luz grinned, leaned forward, and pecked Amity on the lips. Amity found herself short-circuiting, _overwhelmed_ —it was all she could do not to drop her girlfriend.

Luz righted herself with a self-satisfied smirk and made for the bone wall. “That’s basically it. Sand and water. Oh! I guess it has to be salt water specifically. Although my mom did used to bring me to this pond when I was little…”

As Luz prattled on without so much as sparing a glance over her shoulder, Amity found herself infuriated. But in a good way. This, too, she’d learned over the last few days: the difference between good-infuriated and bad-infuriated. Luz was teasing her, deliberately, and Amity quite enjoyed it.

She jogged to catch up. Luz stopped mid-sentence when Amity embraced her from behind, wrapping her arms around Luz’s stomach and pressing her face against her back.

“Sounds pretty boring,” Amity said.

“What? Nah, beaches are the best.”

She moved as if to escape, but Amity tightened her grasp. It was a game they’d played too many times to count, in the handful of hours they’d found alone. Luz struggled for a minute or two, and Amity restrained her easily. (Was Luz was holding back, or whether humans were actually this weak?) Finally, she relaxed into Amity’s embrace, signaling the end of the game.

They stayed like that for a minute, Amity hugging Luz from behind—loosely, now. Enjoying the chill breeze on her back and the warmth of her girlfriend’s body. Enjoying…just enjoying.

Luz sighed, sounding utterly content. “I love you.”

Amity squeezed Luz, then planted a kiss between her shoulder blades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Cockshit” is the abbreviated form of “cockatriceshit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! You read the whole thing! Thanks! There’s a bunch of stuff I want to say, so I’ll just get to it.
> 
> First of all, thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who left kudos, commented, and subscribed to this fic over the course of its life. Knowing that people enjoyed it was a big motivation to keep up the semi-regular updates. Even if you just read it and didn't otherwise interact, I appreciate you a lot <3
> 
> Another shoutout to my lovely beta reader, [argentconflagration](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentconflagration)! Thanks for keeping this story on the rails and for being a huge reason I managed to grind out all 10k+ words in the first place. Also, thanks for dating me. That's pretty cool of you.
> 
> I’ve already started writing two different sequels to this work:  
> (1) The rest of Amity and Luz’s date in the Whistling Caverns, from the perspective of an oath crab. Lots of gender-neutral pronouns and bizarre worldbuilding.  
> (2) A Willow-centric fic in which Luz ends up with two whole girlfriends. This one would involve less contrived angst than Opposite Day, and a hopefully more organic, character-driven plot.
> 
> If you’d be interested in either of those, let me know in a comment! I won’t make any promises—and there's a lot of stuff I want to finish before I seriously embark on either of the above projects—but I’m more likely to write something if I know that other people want to read it. This work should now be connected to a series, which you can subscribe to if you want to be informed of either of those fics.
> 
> Finally, come [follow me on Tumblr](http://inktog.tumblr.com/) if you want! I reblog art of TOH and other fandoms, and sometimes I say words. (Note that this is a different link than the one I posted a few updates ago, as I've remade my Tumblr.)
> 
> Oh, and goodbye, 2020.
> 
> Edit: Lol whoops I forgot the title again.
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention this, but constructive feedback is always welcome! This story is primarily a chance for me to hone my writing skills, so feel free to point out any possible areas of improvement.


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